


Dreamweaver

by sallysorrell



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Androids, Dialogue Heavy, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Robot/Human Relationships, daforge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallysorrell/pseuds/sallysorrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once you've shared your dreams with someone, there's not much that can separate you.  Except, of course, the fact that one of you creates the dreams, while the other lives them.  When Geordi begins programming Data with human dream patterns, will it prove to be an experiment, or something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamweaver

The room was quiet, until the android lapsed into life. 

Across from this, on a foldaway cot, Lieutenant La Forge sat up and reset his visor. 

“Anything?” his voice remained rusty, after so many hours in Data’s cabin.  No water was kept there, and the officer had struggled to fall asleep.

“A considerable amount,” Data said, “of information I  _ already _ possess.”

“That’s good,” Geordi resisted yawning, “People don’t learn new things in dreams.”

“Yet they do reach decisions, afterward.”

“Sometimes.”

Data stayed quiet, while Geordi stood and stretched out his arms. 

“Well,” Geordi mused, “You’re a great alarm, if nothing else.  My shift starts in a few minutes.”

“I must tell you about it,” Data reminded him.  

“Yeah… I think we overlap a few hours at the helm today.”

“Four.”

“Should be plenty of time.  I’ll see you then…”

The cabin door slid open, then shut.  Immediately, Data registered the voice of Commander Riker:

“Ah, Mister La Forge.  That must be some experiment!”

* * *

It was five shifts ago exactly, when Data sat across from Geordi in the Canteen, listening to him recount his most recent dream.  Data tried his best to offer analysis, but the only words produced were, “I do not understand.”

“Would you like to, though?”

“Yes.  And I would like for you to tell me again, next time it occurs.”

Geordi gave a breathy sort of laugh, and explained that not every dream gets the privilege of being ‘assigned to one’s memory.’

“I will remember all of mine,” Data promised.

“Sure you will.”

“How soon will this occur?”

“If we start with something easy.”  Geordi played off of what he swore was  _ excitement _ , buried deep in the mechanical expression, “I can install it tomorrow night.”

* * *

It was a waterfall of text.  A continuous loop of everything Data was required to learn for the Academy’s admittance exam.

“I hoped it would spark your memory,” Geordi explained, when they sat down next to each other at the helm.

Data turned his head, “ _ Spark _ ?”

Geordi clarified.

News of the experiment had made it to Doctor Crusher already, and when she visited the Bridge that shift, she agreed.

“Dreams are always constructed out of memory.  No invented players, and no new knowledge.”

* * *

“You will ensure there is no malfunction?” Data asked, as Geordi unplugged the panel he had been working on.  

“Is that an invitation to your cabin?”

“It is.”

“You know, Data, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were excited about this.”

Data considered every definition he was aware of.

“I am anticipating both the event and its outcome.  What subject will I be dreaming about, Geordi?”

He grinned.

“How ‘bout you tell me tomorrow morning?”

* * *

The new program reached into Data’s memory banks, and acted with artificial randomness; Geordi had instructed it to select and replay a specific line of Data’s memory, based on the number it was filed under.  He did not know what the number would match up to, but he knew to pick a value in the billions, as Data was constantly learning, and he feared going back too far.  Or selecting anything unpleasant.

“I saw Lore,” Data said, immediately after waking up, “Then I fell to the ground.”

Geordi yawned, then confirmed, “That was all you saw?”

“Yes.”

“Guess I’ll pick a range of values for tonight.”

* * *

Counselor Troi offered her unsolicited opinion, when they sat together for dinner several days later.

“I don’t know if there is an equivalent,” she began, “but memory-based dreams often stir strong emotions, especially those of nostalgia.  In my experience, hypothetical dreams are the ones that cause fear, jealousy, and worry.”

“There is some equivalent of fear:” Data replied, “I must always face the possibility that I will not reset after being switched off. I would cease to exist.”

“Yes,” the counselor continued, “Many people have dreams involving death.  They call them nightmares.”

Inspired, Data turned to face Geordi. 

“I would like to experience a nightmare.”

“Suit yourself,” Geordi said as he shrugged.

* * *

“I had a second memory-based dream,” Data said, with a slight tinge of disappointment, “I was expecting to have a nightmare.”

“Exactly,” Geordi responded.  He was awake already, this time.  Prepared for something to go ‘wrong’, as it had.

“You do not  _ want  _ me to expect the nightmare,” Data decided, “as that would detract from the integrity of the experiment.”

“‘Experiment?’  Data, I thought you  _ wanted  _ to do this!”   


The android weighed his possible responses, tilting his head briefly to each side. 

“I do,” he said, facing Geordi, “I want to dream, as you do.”

“As  _ I  _ do?”

* * *

 

The program was executed as soon as Data entered his sleep cycle.  He would not be permitted to sort or enquire about what he saw until he woke up again.

There were many bursts of color.  Some were soft, as if they had been left by a paint brush, soaked too long in water.  Others were harsh, making shifty movements across the black pane Data viewed.

He was aware of his own voice, then those of other crewmembers.  He could not distinguish words. 

There was music, sometimes, and coldness other times.  The senses rarely overlapped, and never transitioned.

Then it stopped; Data was still aware of his dreaming state, and remained an observer, but there was nothing left to experience.  It was as if he had been kicked over, and then he saw nothing but the black pane.  This continued for several hours, until he was scheduled to awaken.

Geordi was watching him, as he shifted into a sitting position and prepared quietly for his shift.

Neither spoke until Data stood before the door, with Geordi still tracing along his every move.  The door swept open, and Data said, “I understand,” as he departed.

* * *

Data compared the different dream types he had experienced, with Geordi and Lieutenant Yar at the seats beside him in Ten-Forward.

“I hated having dreams about my past,” Tasha admitted, “I always woke up - I don’t know - either shaking or sweating.  Took me a few minutes to calm down.  Sometimes, I couldn’t tell if they really happened or not.  Y’know?”

Geordi nodded; Data watched.

* * *

Geordi’s hand shook, just slightly, when he began installing the first Nightmare program.  Data didn’t seem to notice, as the chip had not yet touched him.  

“So this will be another memory-based dream,” Data said patiently, “in a range format.”

“Yeah,” Geordi replied, “Gimme a second.”

Data was entirely still.  Until Geordi patted his shoulder, signifying the end of the installation.  As both of them remarked together - unintentionally - it had taken more time than the previous connections.  They walked in sync with each other - intentionally - to Data’s quarters. 

“Is there a possibility it will malfunction?” Data asked, although he always welcomed Geordi without excuse or invitation.

“Well, there’s always a little one.”

He sat on the rollaway cot, which, by now, had been covered by regulation bedding, as if it was a permanent fixture of the room and would not be forgiven in an inspection.  Data had done this one day, while Geordi was working late in the transporter room.

And, instantly, Data was flat on his bed.  He would be still and quiet for seven hours. 

Or less, if Geordi’s program worked as planned.

01101111 01100110 01100110

I am an android.  I must reset.

I see the bed.  It is mine.  I will wait there to be reset.  

Geordi will know to reset me.  He will know how, and when, should my programming fail.

It will not fail.  But if it does.

With this set of ritual reassurances, the Nightmare program began.  Geordi had been methodical in its design, and tried to write every line of code from Data’s perspective as best he could, so it would not be distinguished too early.  Data would not recognize it as a nightmare immediately.  It would be gradual.  Imperfect.   _ Human _ .

**There is unidentified debris within memory panel 882 >>>**

_ Continue to sleep mode? _   
**OR**   
_ Remove by forcing early cycle reset? _

I have never been able to postpone my sleep cycle once it has begun.  I will not attempt it now. 

Continue.

_ Continue to sleep mode. _

**This requires verification.**

Query: ‘Verification.’

**This action is unauthorized without verification.**

There has never been an error with my sleep cycle.  Repeat command: Continue to sleep mode.

**Error.**

Geordi watched, as one of Data’s fingers twitched.  He noticed, first, the change of color in the light Data always emitted.  It was dim and grey when he was dormant, but lavender when he was alive.  The movement occurred only sometimes, when Data had met a problem that required all of his mental energy, and more.

There was a term for this, borrowed from antiquity:  _ glitch _ .

**Error.**

Query:  Does this error require physical reset.

**Error.**

Geordi will reset me.  He is nearby.  I will ask him. 

**Error.**

I  _ must _ ask him.

**There is unidentified debris within vocal chamber 10A.**

There is not.

**There is now unidentified debris within vocal chambers 10A-12T**

There is not.  Proof:

Action >>>

Vocal:   
  
Geordi.

But he did not speak.  The tremors continued, now shared by three alternating fingers.  Geordi stood and approached him slowly.  While he knew, somewhere deep down, there was no way he could  _ startle  _ Data, he stayed outwardly cautious.

Action >>>

Physical:

Geordi.

I will reach for him.  He will understand and reset me.

But there was no movement.  Even his fingers had stopped shaking.  

I will not be reset.  

I will cease to exist, outside of myself.

**Confirmed.**

Geordi recognized the sudden calmness as his cue.  He reached for his friend’s reset button, gently pressing it and holding it in for several seconds.  

01101111 01101110 

Data blinked up at him.

“You have reset me,” he observed, while remaining flat on his back.

“Yes.  I had to.”

“Did I call for you?”

“Not unless you learned more about nicknames,” Geordi clarified by holding up one hand, and letting his fingers dance.

“Ah,” said Data.  And that was all.  Geordi had to lean closer, to regain his attention.

“Did you dream, Data?”

“I had not yet entered my sleep cycle.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Data blinked twice more, and reviewed the information he had just collected.

“This was built into the dream program,” he deduced, “Or ‘nightmare’, as it concerned my equivalent of death.”

“Right,” Geordi said, “How was it?”

“You reset me, so I was unable to fully experience it.  I had already accepted that, if I were not reset, I would exist solely within my own mind.”

Words like ‘scared’ were too forward, and Geordi knew this.  He sat on the bed beside Data, who decided this was a command for him to sit up, too.

“So you  _ doubted  _ that I would reset you?”

“I do not know; I merely accepted my deactivation as the most likely option.  It appears I do not possess doubt, just as I do not possess other emotions.”

“Then it looks like you can’t have nightmares, Data.  You tried.”  Geordi reached to pat his shoulder, as if the program had just been installed, “There’s worse things out there, believe me.”

* * *

“But if he observes his own dreams,” Wesley argued, “how can he experience  _ any  _ emotions?  He probably can’t see himself as he is, in dreams.  Do you know what I mean?”

“I don’t think so, Ensign.”

Wesley and Geordi sat together, folded over a holodeck control panel, taking turns uncrossing wires.

“It all depends how you write the programs.  If he doesn’t have any control over them, he’ll just watch, won’t he?  He won’t think he’s an active participant.  I bet that’s what you need to do next,” he rushed to add  _ ‘Sir’ _ with the enthusiasm owed by its earlier absence.

Geordi paused and considered this, while Wesley continued working through the conflicted silence.  

“Is that all right, Sir?”

“Fine, Ensign,” Geordi spoke to the wires, not to the ideas.

He stood, gave Wesley instructions to write the dream program - which he was to leave as raw code for Geordi to fine-tune and adapt to Data’s comfort - and rushed to the turbolift.

On the bridge, he caught Data by as much surprise as possible; he rested one hand over Data’s forearm before settling into the chair beside him.  

“How would you feel about an interactive dream program?”

Slowly, Data turned in his chair.  Behind them, Commander Riker acknowledged Geordi’s arrival and signaled the start of the beta shift.  Captain Picard was gone already, and others were relieved in turn.

“Interactive?” Data confirmed. “You would have me choose responses to events.”

“Kind of,” Geordi said, “That would - well, I’m not sure - but I  _ think  _ that would increase emotional capacity.  Don’t you?  If you could personalize it?”

“I agree; I do possess an understanding of most emotions and would be interested in applying this base to hypothetical events.  How long will it take for you to create?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got someone working on it.”

“Ah,” Data said softly.

“Disappointed?”

“Perhaps,” Data said, “Is that what I am displaying?”

Geordi leaned in and tried to distinguish each of Data’s features, but settled on listening to him, and agreeing.

“But I’m gonna double check it before we get it installed.  I’d never leave you out in the cold like that.”

Geordi’s words were gentle; bright blue hyacinths, quivering in the breeze.  Data plucked them with the intention of learning more, but was too late to realize how this hurt them:

“I am always ‘cold.’”

* * *

Geordi’s eyes were aimed absently at the largest painting in Data’s cabin, while the android led him to the bed and set him there, guiding both shoulders.  

“I am incapable of being uncomfortable,” Data explained, retrieving Geordi’s visor from the table beside the cot.  He clasped Geordi’s hands around it, in their preferred places, “I expect you will be here for several nights, and your shifts are sometimes longer than even mine.”

“Thank you,” Geordi said, “That’s a very kind thing for you to do.”

“Thoughtful,” replied Data.

“Thoughtful.  Of course.”  

He set the visor down near the borrowed pillow, and leaned against the headboard.  Because of the silence, he assumed he should try to fall asleep.  He felt comfortable enough, physically, but was concerned for Data’s forthcoming dream.  There had not been time for him to read the code over carefully; merely to edit the few errors that would have made it incompatible with Data’s sleep cycle.  He pondered this, until Data turned and spoke from his post before the mirror.

“Has this experiment made me more or less ‘human’ to you, Geordi?”

Geordi wasn’t able to monitor Data’s expressions in the mirror.  He missed the opportunity to appreciate the day of work Data had put into perfecting them for the occasion.  Data recalled the neglected visor, and retired to the cot.  Geordi heard him, leaning against it and folding his hands.

“I wasn’t really thinking about it like that.  I would say ‘more’, though.”

“That is the conclusion  _ I _ was hoping to reach, also.  But has it not dehumanized me - just to  _ you  _ \- when you must create and install a new dream program each day?  Is this why  you had someone else create tonight’s program?”

“Maybe that’s part of it,” Geordi said lazily, “I don’t know myself as well as you know  _ yourself _ , Data.  It’s hard for me to gauge exactly what I’m feeling.”

Data stared at his reflection, then, newly inspired, he turned and reached for Geordi’s wrist.  He had always been fascinated by the pulse he found there, and wanted  _ some  _ way to communicate the practiced emotions.  

“It initiates in sixty seconds,” Data said, words invested with earnesty, “in case you had anything else you wanted to talk about.”

“Not right now,” Geordi’s hand settled comfortably over his, “but I’m sure one of us’ll think of something.”

The lights in the room faded as Data removed his hand, and then flattened against the cot.

“Goodnight, Data.”

“And to you, Geordi.”

“Sweet dreams.”

* * *

Data awoke immediately after the program ended, sitting up straight and adjusting his shoulders.  He was learning to stretch.

After hearing the crackling sound this produced, Geordi stirred.  He unrolled the blanket from his arms, then down his chest.  He felt the collar of his uniform, and knew he had fallen asleep earlier than usual.   

“Geordi,” Data said encouragingly.

The engineer offered quiet variations of ‘hmm?’ until Data reached to touch his wrist.  Then he sat, and reached for his visor.  It waited patiently in his hand, while Data continued speaking.

“I must tell you about my dream.”

Geordi had to remind himself that it was one of Wesley’s creations, and not his own.  First, he asked if Data had  _ felt _ anything.  

“Undeniably.” quipped the android, voice light.  Then, in the same singsong tone, he recounted every detail of the story Wesley had designed for him.

“It seems my ‘interactions’ were limited to selecting characters,” Data said, in conclusion.

“Data, that… sounds wonderful.”

“Dreamlike?”

“Definitely.  Did you feel uneasy, at all?  Worried about your choices?”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, which, in turn, ignited his face, then his shoulders, as he leaned forward and nodded.  It was enthusiasm; though Geordi could not see it, he felt it.

“Did I make an acceptable choice?  I was familiar enough with the story format, but unaware of who else to select.  I felt that friendship would be an acceptable substitution in the romantic formula I was presented with.  Oh,” Data paused, stricken again with worry, “I have read about similar dreams making the involved parties uncomfortable.  Does it trouble you?”

“It’s fine,” Geordi offered a chuckle, “I’m just happy it worked for you.  I’ll have to tell Wesley… he’ll get a kick out of it.”

In determination, he set down the visor and felt for his laundered uniform, waiting at the foot of the bed.

“Ah,” Data accepted this by raising his chin, “I should have suspected that was Mister Crusher’s work.  Tell him that I was distressed, however, because you were unable to save yourself.  The program required me to intervene.”

“That’s how fairy-tales go, Data.” Geordi spoke through the black undershirt, as he removed and exchanged it, “But I may need you one of these days.”

He set his hand where he expected his visor to be, then patted back toward the pillow.  His routine had been disturbed: he was awake earlier, in an unfamiliar bed, and had already done more than his share of emotional counseling.  The visor had contributed to none of this, and sat on Geordi’s other side.  Data leaned over, retrieved it, and offered it to his friend without explanation or apology.  Geordi accepted it, and the epiphany it provided.

“I’m only human,” Geordi added, as he put the visor on.  The first thing he saw was the light around Data, as it drifted through regretful shades of grey.

“Of course.”

As the lieutenant sat on the bed, legs drawn up to his chest, he knew exactly what he should design next. 

* * *

Data thought about the fairytale dream for weeks, often recalling bits of it and reciting them, at fair intervals, to Geordi.  One evening, he admitted he had never seen even a holodeck version of a horse before, nor had he ever worn armor.  He did not need to.

Geordi supplied him with simple memory-strand dreams for the interim, while he worked diligently on the next nightmare.  Even as he sealed the finished chip, he did not know if it would affect Data, or leave him hollow and confused, as the last attempt had done.

He tossed the chip from one hand to the other, and stood to leave his workstation.  Just as he caught it, Captain Picard appeared on his side, looking as though he had chased bad news all the way from the Bridge.  Apparently, he did not have success in trapping it; he sighed and crossed his arms behind his back.

“Commander Riker tells me that you’ve been running an experiment on Mister Data for over a month, now.”

“Captain, let me explain…”

Briefly, Picard untucked one hand and flashed his palm, before shoving it back into the solemn cross behind his back.

“I certainly don’t want to sound like... a parent,” he said, as his mouth disagreed with his brain’s suggestion of  _ ‘your  _ parent.’  “But I must have both of you performing - or operating - at your peaks.  I cannot allow you to compromise Mister Data’s integrity, nor your alertness, through the creation of these programs.  Unless I am misunderstanding something, Lieutenant.”

“Only if you think I’m doing something to hurt Data.  With all due respect, Sir, that’s--”

“I am well aware of your friendship with Mister Data.”

“Then you’ll know that what I’m doing, I’m doing to help him.  He’s trying to add to his  _ human  _ behaviors, like  _ you _ expect him to.  He  _ asked  _ me to install the dreams, Sir.”

Picard nodded, and unfolded his arms.  

“That’s exactly what I wanted to verify.  Experiments are always somewhat of a grey area, in the case of non-human test subjects.  When will I be able to read your findings?”

“I’m on my way to install the final program now.”

“Fine.  If you’ll please give your reports to Doctor Crusher or Commander Riker when they’ve been completed...  Do  _ not  _ forward anything to Starfleet; I like to keep their lack of interest in Mister Data at a constant level.”

“Of course, Sir.”

* * *

Geordi slid the chip into place.  Immediately, although gradually, it initiated Data’s sleep cycle.  Every few seconds, it selected another program or capability to shut down.  Data was aware of this, but unsure of what to call it or how to reverse it, as his self-diagnosing protocol was the first to be disabled.

He glanced at Geordi, brows furrowed. 

“You may have the bed,” Data reminded Geordi, who remained standing, “You will be here, in case the program malfunctions.”

Geordi stabbed Picard’s words in their collective shoulder, and watched them bleed.   _ Experiments are always somewhat of a grey area, in the case of non-human test subjects. _

He would disappoint Data’s with more gentility, tranquilizing them and setting them down along with their keeper. 

Data’s eyes shut, while his aural reception tried to compensate, and Geordi spoke, “Yes, I’ll be here.”

He watched the glow dissipate, as Data became completely inactive.  He could tell already that Data was troubled, but the program would only be truly successful if he left the room. 

01101111 01100110 01100110

“Did it work, Data?  ... _ Data _ ?”

I register Geordi’s voice.  His hand waves repeatedly through my line of vision.

Respond >>>

“It does not appear to have worked.  I was unable to enter sleep-mode.”

“Right… I think I know what we missed.”

Offer >>>

“Was this the result of my actions?”

“No, Data.  No, it must’ve been my bad.  Let me just run and grab something from my station.  I’ll be right back, and we can try again.”

Silence is sufficient; affirm by nodding.

I watch Geordi as he leaves. I will remain where I am until he returns.  There is no benefit in moving, at this time.

After 12 minutes and 4.09 seconds, Geordi has not returned, but the light for Yellow Alert flashes above me.  I register Commander Riker’s voice:

“We have reason to believe there is an intruder on board.  Request all non-essential personnel report to their cabins.”

If I am considered essential personnel, I will be summoned shortly.

After an additional 31.44 seconds, the alert is upgraded to Red.  Commander Riker is heard again.

“Request all transient personnel take refuge in the nearest sealable cabin immediately.  Report in with status and location, by department.”

It has taken longer than usual for Geordi to walk to the engineering bay, assuming he was successful in reaching that destination.  Perhaps he was not.

Action >>>

I tap my communication badge.

“Lieutenant Commander Data to Bridge.”

“Commander Riker here.  What’s your status?”

“I am in my cabin, unharmed.  Has Lieutenant La Forge confirmed his position and well-being?”

“No report from La Forge.”

“Can you locate him using his communicator signal, Commander?”

“Engineering bay, and stationary.”

He may be concealing himself from the intruder, or he may be injured.  I must find out which, so I may proceed correctly.

I tap my communicator twice more.

“Lieutenant Commander Data to Engineering.  Lieutenant La Forge?”

Silence.  It is  _ not  _ sufficient, in this instance.

Emotional appeal >>>

“Geordi?”

The voice registered is breathier than usual, and at a decibel level which denotes a whisper.

“I’m here, Data…”

“Are you injured?”

“Data, there’s--!”

He  _ sounds  _ injured.

The communication is terminated.  The lights continue flashing.

Action >>>

Locate Geordi.

I will leave my cabin and run to Engineering.  This is a direct violation of the Red Alert procedures given by Commander Riker, but I must locate Geordi.

I do not notice any intruder, even as I arrive in the Engineering Bay, where Geordi’s communicator signal continues broadcasting.

I see him after only 12.93 seconds of searching.  He is immobile, and both his visor and phaser appear to be damaged.

I must speak as I approach him, so he will not be afraid when I reach to touch him.

“Geordi.  Are you injured?”

“I don’t know… I must’ve been unconscious.”

“You are unusually pale.”

I reach for his shoulders.  As I kneel and set him over my legs, I hear a ‘crash’ which I am unable to accurately categorize.

Speculate >>>

The intruder is nearby.

Observation >>>

Geordi has lost a significant amount of blood.  The loss is still occurring, as I hold him.

I have several options.  I can move Geordi to a safer location - preferably Sickbay - with the chance I injure him further.  I can attempt to staunch the wound here, with the chance the intruder returns.  Or, I can search for the intruder myself, leaving Geordi alone and unprotected.

A human saying comes to mind:

_ If you stay put, you will be found _ .

This advice is primarily given to groups at risk of becoming lost, not attacked.

Regardless, I decide to ‘take’ it.

I shift backward on the ground, one leg at a time, doing my best to keep Geordi’s head stable.  I feel the side of a console, and pull us beneath it.

“Data, where are we going?”

“We are remaining beneath a console, so I may tend to your wounds.  Do you know  _ how  _ you were injured?”

“I don’t feel anything… is it really that bad?”

I can only base my diagnosis on my knowledge of planetary history, and not of medicine; the tool which inflicted it must be primitive.

“It appears life-threatening without immediate treatment.”

Geordi makes an unusual sound which I can only categorize as a sigh.  But a pained one.  A moan, perhaps. Or a whine.

I am able to apply intense pressure to the wound with both hands, which significantly slows the bleeding, but may later compromise my processing ability.  This is not a concern.

I realize that I will not be able to heal him without medical assistance.  I tap my communicator.  I cannot remove my hands long enough to introduce myself or thoroughly convey the situation.  I must be ‘in two places at once.’

“Sickbay, report.  Emergency.”

“Data?” Doctor Crusher’s voice, “What’s wrong?”

“I am with Geordi.  I believe he has been stabbed, multiple times.”

“ _ Stabbed _ ?”

I hear another crash, but nearer to us. 

I ignore the communicator, and drag Geordi out from under the console.  I set him down, only long enough to allow myself to stand.  I must carry him to Sickbay. 

There are several options.  I can prioritize the speed of my movement, or the safety of my friend.

Yes. 

I try to combine both.  

I believe this is a ‘human’ approach, and I hope it is as effective as humans tend to suggest.

Geordi whines again.

Concern >>>

“Are you in pain?”

“Just when you cross your hands like that.”

“I will not do so again.”

I uncross them.

This was not the best option: the blood drips more steadily now.  In addition to draining Geordi’s life, it has created a path by which the intruder may follow us.  I have endangered anyone we pass by.

I do not reach Sickbay in time.

I have one hand over Geordi’s wrist as his pulse slows, then terminates. 

This has not allowed me to communicate my feelings.  It is difficult to accept that I cannot do so, anymore; Geordi will not hear me.

I do not reach Sickbay at all.

I fall where I am, with Geordi over me.  I kneel and hold his head in both hands.  I stare down at him.

One by one, the android’s systems restarted.  He remained in the stasis of the dream, as different emotions became matches within him, striking themselves against sulfur circuits.

I am incapable of crying, but I feel I must.  I must do something.

I will mimic the noise Geordi made.  It signifies pain.  I would like to display pain. 

I am found by a security team later.  I have not counted the time.  The Alert lights have ceased.

I must be confined to my quarters.  Geordi is taken from me.  I am unsure of how to protest, other than to continue with the whining noise. 

Data stood, still under the control of the nightmare program.  If Geordi were there to see him, he would be proud to see it working so well.  After he had apologized sufficiently.

I am given a clean uniform to wear.  I am told I must be malfunctioning.

But I believe I am functioning appropriately for the situation. 

A resistance field is initiated outside of my door, which will overload my circuits if I engage it.  Despite this, I consider doing so.  I cannot construct a reason for doing this that is  _ not  _ emotional.  Perhaps I  _ am  _ malfunctioning.   

Captain Picard calls for me as I am contemplating this.  He says he will be with me as soon as he can.  So will Counselor Troi.

But the Captain sat peacefully on the Bridge, reeling in his first double-shift in several weeks, and wondering what sort of experiment Geordi was conducting.

I only want to see Geordi.  However, I cannot; I have failed him.

01101111 01101110 

Data reached his door, braced himself for the static of the resistance field, and stepped forward.  His eyes were open, now, and he was in control of his own actions.  These were guided by the remnants of the dream, tugging him along on a short chain.

He felt the need to find Geordi.  His search would begin in Sickbay.  

* * *

“How bad do you think he’s gonna be?” Geordi had already relayed the nature of the program to Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher, who sat across from him in Crusher’s private office.  

“It’s hard to say,” mused Deanna, as she studied Geordi’s expression, “Children are sometimes unsure of new emotions, and react in a way others would deem inappropriate.”

“Like laughing when they get angry,” the doctor suggested, “or crying when they are confused.”

“Exactly.  They learn the difference between their strongest emotions later.  I assume Data will be the same way.”

“Like a child,” mumbled Geordi, “I shouldn’t have done this to him.  Maybe the captain was right.”

“You did what he asked, Geordi.” Crusher assured him, “He’ll recognize that, once he can rationalize how it happened.”

“I hope so.  I don’t even know what to tell him.”

“That the program worked exactly how it was supposed to,” Crusher said, tone measured and neat, “That you installed what he asked for, and the experiment is over.  He never has to do it again.”

“Or,” Troi began, “We could continue the scenario as it occurred in the nightmare, and then explain it later.  That would give me a better chance to gauge his emotional response.”

Geordi considered both options, but knew Data would already be close.  There would not be much time for background information.

“Deanna, do you honestly think that would be better?”

“I do.”

“If it doesn’t work,” Crusher offered, in the same tone, “he’s told me that he can have memories overridden.”

“That’s true,” sighed Geordi. 

“Just give him what he wants, first,” Crusher continued, “a pleasant dream.”

“I think I can manage that.  You’ll have to enter later, Deanna.”

Troi nodded and stepped obediently from the room, and out of the main Sickbay, too.  Geordi climbed onto one of the gurneys, and estimated its comfort fell somewhere between that of the rollaway cot and Data’s bed.  He assumed he would never spend another night on either one.

Doctor Crusher retrieved several tools from her collection, and set to work on Geordi.  She confirmed his comfort before offering to remove his visor.

“I lost a lot of blood,” Geordi reminded her, as she shoved the visor beneath a panel on the table, “Otherwise, I’ll just play along.”

The doors swished open, and Data stood between them, devoid of his usual reservations.  He staggered forward, stopping abruptly when he saw Geordi.  He did not speak, until long after the doctor had acknowledged him.  Even then, all he asked was Geordi’s condition.

“I may be able to revive him.”

“Oh?” the single syllable was drawn and tortured.  By hope, of all things.

“Yes,” she paused and attached a monitor to Geordi’s wrist. “I’ve closed the wound, and can have his blood-type replicated in less than an hour.”

He stood, and said he would wait that time, or longer. 

The room was tense and quiet, until Deanna arrived and remarked at this. 

“Data,” she said gently, “the captain sent me to check on you.  Do you mind if I stay?”

“I do not.”

She had trouble sifting through his thoughts and feelings, as they were not organically produced.  She read what she could from his face, and his stance, and from what Geordi had told her earlier. 

“Why are you waiting here, Data?” the empath ventured.

“I must apologize to Geordi.”

“For an emotional reason, or a programmed one?”

“I believe my diagnostic system is malfunctioning, as I am currently unable to differentiate between those options.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Deanna continued, reaching for his shoulder, “I think it’s an emotional one.”

* * *

Again, Data had to be escorted away by security.  He promised to remain peaceful, and did so, but Doctor Crusher insisted she needed an empty room to best focus on Geordi’s final ‘surgery.’

Deanna sat and studied him while he paced in the hall, asking her what she would do in a similar situation. 

“I would do exactly the same thing you are, Data.  That’s what people do, when those they love are in trouble.”

“I understand,” he said.  And then he was quiet.

He was not allowed to see Geordi until an entire shift had passed.  He was told that Geordi was fine, but needed rest to improve completely.  In truth, he needed time to hear what Deanna had gathered. 

“A deep affection,” she said, “though I think it may run too deep.”

“What do you mean?” Geordi asked, making no attempt to sound innocent or unaware of the profound effect he had on Data.

“Well, he has a hard time processing anything unethical.  His friends lying to him?  He won’t accept that.  He might live the rest of his life believing he’s malfunctioning as a result of this dream program.  And if he manages to accept  _ that _ , I’m not certain he’ll trust us anymore.  Maybe no one from the ship.”

“You think I should just erase the program?”

Deanna nodded, and the doctor offered her agreement.

“I don’t think he’s ready to feel anything that strongly.  Especially not guilt.”

“Okay,” Geordi acquiesced.  “I’ll try to reason with him, just because I think he’d appreciate it, but if it goes wrong I can always pull the chip and wipe it blank.”

“I can’t guess how he’ll react,” Deanna offered.

Neither could Geordi.  But they all found out, when Data was readmitted, and Geordi struggled to sit against the frame of the bed.  He could not see Data as he approached, but he felt the light as a warmth, this time.

Data asked if he was awake, first, then if it would hurt for them to touch.

“No,” Geordi said, “I’m okay now, thanks.”

Data stamped his hand over Geordi’s, and turned them both so their palms met.

“I am sorry,” Data said, “I thought I had caused your death.”

Geordi tried to present a parallel to Data, something he would understand and apply later.

“I, umm, I don’t remember any of it.  So I’m sure you did what you thought was best.  And it had to have worked, right?  Because I’m here.”

“You are,” Data said, “and I am thankful.  I… I wish I were able to produce tears.”

“I’d like to see that,” Geordi’s voice conveyed his smile.

Data did not understand the joke as Geordi intended it, nor did he consider the fact Geordi could  _ never  _ see tears, as they were not of discernable temperature or chemical composition.

“Where is your visor?  I will repair it immediately.”

“Data, it’s alright.  I need to tell you something first.”

“Then I will listen without interrupting.”

“I know you will.”

Deanna felt something from Data, intense and beautiful like the glow Geordi got from him, and she knew they had attempted too much.  She took Crusher’s arm and led her from the room, leaving Geordi alone and Data as the patient.

Geordi spoke again, once he was sure the doors had shut.

“I don’t really know how to tell you.  I think I made a mistake.”

He felt his breath, catching on a hook in his throat.  Before now, he had never been aware of hearing it, as it shook.  Data’s did not, for he did not breathe.  Geordi focused on the silence, and recognized the stress it added to the situation; how many new concepts could Data safely process at once?  He could hear hundreds of simultaneous symphonies, calculate thousands of separate sets of odds, discern millions of individual color cells in a gradient, but one emotion was too much for his focus.  He wanted to take all of Data’s guilt, now, to soak it up and let it ferment into pain.  Anything, if it would spare his friend.

In preparation, Geordi shook his head and sighed. 

“I was never injured.”

Data’s hand seized around his, now, then relaxed almost immediately.  Geordi reached to reclaim it; he needed to know that Data was with him.

“It was part of the nightmare program I installed.”

He could hear Data sliding backward, not stepping.  Perhaps that was more than he could process, at the moment.  Geordi had to stand, sighing and throwing his arms forward, to catch hold of him.  He dug one hand into the crest of each shoulder, but he found no skin to press his fingernails into.  They met the fabric, and then the cold plate beneath.  It did not spring back apologetically when his nails prodded it; it resisted him completely.

“Data, it was what you asked for.  You wanted to dream, and you wanted to have nightmares, remember?”

“Yes.”

Another tug backward, and Geordi fell against Data’s chest.  He tried to straighten himself, but risked letting go.  The noise he made was one of frustration, which Data met with one arm.  He would keep Geordi still, for as long as he could remain so himself.

“I know I shouldn’t’ve done it.  I know that.  I realized it, as soon as I installed the program.  I nearly cried, walking out of your cabin.”

“You would not have left my cabin.  Therefore, I am still in the dream program.”

“No, Data.  It ended.”

“I have no recollection of waking.”

“I know.”

Geordi’s hands met against the back of Data’s neck.  

“Further,” Data said, and Geordi felt the words as they were dug up from a box in his chest, “I am not subject to such strong and consistent emotion when I am  _ not  _ in the dream state.”

Geordi’s hands drifted slowly through hesitance and apology, until they found Data’s face.  

“I know that, too.”

“Then you will agree that I am dreaming, and you are the participant I have selected for this event.”

Geordi let his hands drift up Data’s back and to his shoulders, hoping his affections were not as unyielding as his solid flesh. All was still, and then...

“Geordi?” Data inquired.

“What is it, Data?”

“Most humans do not have any metal in their bodies.”

“That’s right, Data. You  _ know _ that.”

“It is just that… it is strange. I feel extremely drawn to you, despite the fact none of our components are compatible. I can only describe it as a form of magnetism, but that must be incorrect.”

Geordi said that people sometimes used that phrase, too.  He pressed his fingers over Data’s lips, to ensure he would find them. 

“In what context?” Data whistled through the new obstruction, but did not question it.  Something told him this context was correct.

Confirmation arrived along with Geordi’s lips, meeting the mark set by the fingers, which then crumbled away. 

There was warmth there, and an imagined glow, as Geordi leaned in, and Data moved his arms to better accept his friend’s weight.  

In the end, Geordi guided his head to Data’s shoulder, and was relieved that Data did not let him go.

“I am not sure this qualifies as a nightmare,” Data said, “As the conflicts, however devastating, led to a pleasant and desirable outcome.”

“Pleasant  _ and  _ desirable?” Geordi said, lips brushing against Data’s neck.

“Naturally,” Data responded.  As Geordi stepped backward, Data moved his hands to Geordi’s waist.  “I feel this also qualifies you for any romantic formulas I may encounter in future dreams.  And I am thankful, but I believe you must reset me now.  I cannot access my timing mechanism, and must assume I have ‘overslept.’”

Geordi had to soak up each individual word, and tried to imagine the bursts of light Data was emitting while he spoke them.  

“I can do that,” Geordi said, “Can you sit on one of the tables?”

“Yes,” Data replied, leading Geordi toward the nearest one, “Shall I repair your visor, or is this a useless pursuit during a dream?”

“I think I can find my way to your ‘off’ switch,” Geordi continued, “I’ve never known anyone to miss their alarm clock’s ‘snooze’ button.”

Data considered this, while pulling himself onto the operating table.  He watched Geordi’s hand, tracing the perimeter of the surface, until he had found his way to the other side.  Behind Data’s back, Geordi felt along the console for his visor.  He would need it, once he was sure Data was inactive.  There was lots of programming left to do, before he could call their experiment complete. 

Sight of the undamaged visor could confuse Data beyond easy repair, so Geordi kept it hidden on the other side of the table, where he knew he could find it without Data’s perfect and unapologetic guidance.

“So, you wouldn’t call that a nightmare, Data?” Geordi felt the need to occupy his voice, so it would not break under the stress felt by his hand, as it slithered down the seam at Data’s side. 

“I must be incapable of having them.”

“Will you feel uncomfortable talking to me, when you’re awake again?”

“No.”

Geordi’s fingers hovered over the switch, shaking with each word Data added.

“I will look forward to it.  I find pleasure in sharing my dreams with you, Geordi.”

“Me too,” Geordi sighed, “I think this has been my favorite.”

_ Click _ .

* * *

After the newly-created memories were erased, Data was transported to his own cabin, where he would finally awaken.

Geordi had slid the nightmare program from its port, and stuffed it immediately into the collection of projects he kept in his private quarters.  He would adapt it for use on the holodeck, one day, so Data could comfortably experience it, without falling into the paralytic paradox of his own consciousness. 

He was lounging on Data’s bed, as promised, when the android sat up and tried to stretch.

“I would like to discuss my dream with you,” he said, hopefully.  But he was forced to pause, as his internal queries for the memory never returned, “It seems I cannot remember it…”

Geordi grinned.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.  But it sounds like it was a good one.”

Data created the content feeling, and set it gently within his memory.

“Yes, I believe it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> Revised Sept. 8, 2016


End file.
